Worth a Thousand
by Kelly123
Summary: Microfic challenge, one sentence fics for various genres. Arya/Gendry, Sansa/Sandor, Brienne/Jaime, Ygritte/Jon, Shireen/Rickon.
1. aryagendry

_So I don't know if I'm allowed to do this, here, (since I totally stole it from stalking tumblr this weekend like the shameless creeper that I am), but what the hell._

_Here is my attempt at Sabotensan's "microfic" challenge. One sentence fics for various genres._

_Oh, and my "sentences" are hopeless run-ons. Oops.  
_

_D: Not mine._

* * *

(a+g)_  
_

**Angst**

She feels his eyes lock onto the side of her face the instant she slips in from the stables, sitting down to break her fast at the seat furthest from him, and it makes the raw skin beneath her tunic burn to know that he is remembering what hadn't happened last night, what couldn't have happened, and what would never happen again.

**Smut**

She's struggling in her sleep, hips thrusting helplessly for friction that isn't there, and at first he does nothing but watch in rapt, shameful wonder, but before long the bastard within gets the best of him and he lightly takes her hand and directs it where he knows she needs it most, and then when she rolls and arches and quakes he watches some more.

**AU**

His father catches him staring at her as she exits the training yard in the direction of the baths, guffawing drunkenly and nudging him with his elbow while telling him to follow, and though it makes his stomach churn he ducks away all the same, ill at ease with what might happen if Lord Baratheon happens upon His Grace Eddard Stark's bastard daughter while she is bathing.

**Hurt/Comfort**

Her fists are hard and fast and relentless against his bare chest, and in a sleep-induced fog he tries to wrap her in his arms, barely registering the words that tumble forth from her gritted teeth, thick with something he later recognizes as tears, words like "stupid" and "your fault" and "pregnant."

**Friendship**

When she first meets him, she asks, almost shyly, if he has any brothers, and he only laughs in a way that reminds her of Jon and cuffs her on the shoulder like Robb used to, telling her no, but that he had always wanted one.

**Romance**

She has always been utter shit at dancing, and he has never even tried it before, but somehow when he spins her around, barefoot in the dirt, stepping on her toes and clutching her tight against him, she feels all sorts of dizzy and a little bit like Sansa and for once the sensation is something dangerously close to lovely.

**Fluff**

He flings the tiny blossoms at her, avoiding eye contact and muttering under his breath about putting them in her bedroll because she stinks to high heaven and maybe they would keep the fleas away before the two of them were both eaten alive, and she knows she should throw them right back, but for some reason she puts the lavender under her pillow and wonders if she might still be dreaming when she wakes to the feel of him brushing it from her hair.

* * *

_I couldn't stop myself from writing these two first, what with the appearance of shirtless Gendry (and I don't even have HBO)._


	2. sansasandor

_It's not like me to be back so soon, but these are just too much fun to write!  
_

_I'm usually trying to up my word count, so having the freedom to do the opposite is absolutely liberating. Not to mention being able to completely abandon any semblance of a backstory, which if you've read my other stuff you know I rarely have the patience for... One-shots and drabbles and run-ons, oh my!**  
**_

_Thanks for adding this story to your favorites and subscribing, but if you could please trouble yourself to drop me a word or two in review, it would means the world to me!  
_

_D: Not mine.  
_

* * *

**Angst**

They were both calling after her, not even attempting to hide their laughter as they urged her to come back and try again, but she only threw the wooden practice sword to the ground and wiped the mud from her face with as much dignity as she could muster: if he wanted to waste his time playing with her little sister then she really couldn't care less!

**Smut **

She extinguishes the lamp as he presses her down into the mattress and bats him away when he tries to lift her shift any higher than is absolutely necessary, her keening turning to a whine of embarrassment when his hands slide up her legs to splay across the soft flesh of her swollen belly, and he laughs into the hot slickness at the apex of her thighs for the thought that she would find herself the undesirable one in their bed.

**AU**

He had thought to scare her, but instead his burns seem to ignite an insatiable sort of curiosity within her, so that now she seems less a girl and more a little bird, the sort to try and sit on his shoulder, pecking at him constantly with wide eyes and breathless questions, for no matter how he tries to swat her away, she always flies right back.

**Hurt/Comfort**

His niece screams with all the ferocity of her wolf-bitch mother when she is placed in his arms, and instantly shame and terror settle into his traitorous, trembling limbs until she puts her perfect hands over his own and shows him how to cup the tiny bald thing and rock her until the babe sleeps soundly in his still embrace.

**Friendship**

Her nose wrinkles of its own accord at the atrocious stench, and though she tries to be sly in throwing him a suspicious glance, she finds him staring her straight in the face, eyebrow raised as if daring her to say something discourteous.

**Romance**

It has never been his intention to apologize to her for that night with the fire and his knife and her song all those years ago, but when he jolts awake from the fever and finds her seated next to his bed with his hand clutched in her own, he feels some small relief in the blush which ignites her cheeks when she tells him he talks in his sleep.

**Fluff**

He isn't in the least surprised when he wakes to find his bed empty the following morning, though the shock almost kills him when he raises his body off the mattress just in time to see her kick the door to his chambers shut behind her with one bare foot, his own tunic hanging down past her knees and a stolen lemoncake in each hand.

* * *

_Honestly, I don't know why I ship sansan, it's quite stockholm syndrome-esque, really...but somehow that doesn't stop me one bit._


	3. briennejaime

_Just a word of warning, "would you rather" makes an appearance here. _

_It's still fun even if you are old enough to legally buy the drinks which always seem to evoke the game.  
_

_D: Not mine._

* * *

(j+b)

**Angst**

It has been years and years since she has let herself cry because someone called her ugly, when when he laughs at her, deep and booming and shameless, there is something deep within her chest that shivers and starts to crack, and she is running for the stables before it all falls down.

**Smut**

Her voice tends to carry, so it really isn't his fault he overhears her asking the bastard girl such intimate questions about men, what they like and what they don't and how to please them, and as he rounds the corner he intends to offer a few pointers of him own, but when he finds the lesson has become much more hands-on in nature his mouth goes too dry for words.

**AU**

Any bit of beauty that should have been shared between the twins while they were in the womb had been stolen by her sister, who kept it all for herself and left the other with naught, so when her betrothal was announced, it shouldn't have been surprising to find she had stolen him from her as well.

**Hurt/Comfort**

She has been disagreeable and terse with him all day, hunched over in her saddle and spending more time than usual out in the woods making water, so when she curls herself into a ball on top of her bedroll he knows what she needs and reaches under her tunic to press his good hand firmly against the muscles of her lower back, and she whimpers and he smiles and doesn't think of who taught him this.

**Friendship**

He gets her ridiculously drunk and though she can feel the blush burning hotly with every name, she still manages to give an answer when he asks her which of the kingsguard she would rather lie with, one over the other, and it is ridiculous and childish and she wishes desperately that there were more whitecloaks to choose between because she never wants this game to end**.**

**Romance**

They are riding through the charred remains of a godswood when he tells her he never had a wish to be married, which doesn't come as any surprise to her and she is about to tell him as much when she catches him looking at her queerly and continuing, saying that he's been reconsidering the idea of it all as of late.

**Fluff**

She makes to reach for her dagger to cut her hair after they make camp, the straw-like ends of it now brushing her shoulders and falling across her eyes when they ride, but he pushes the blade away without a word and instead sets to work at untangling the snarls as best he can with the hand he has left.

* * *

_Happy Cinco de Mayo everyone, drink a margarita for me!  
_


	4. ygrittejon

_Is there anything more precious than 's little unwilling smirk when Ygritte is talking dirty to him? Think about it..._

_I didn't think so. I thought I was done here, but these two deserve a little love.  
_

_D: Not mine._

* * *

(y+j)

**Angst**

Afterward, when the weight of his shame is heavy on his bare shoulders for the dishonor he has brought his vows and his family, he cannot help but to wonder if this was how his father felt with as he lay with his mother.

**Smut**

She had said that she would teach him...but then he would crook his fingers, or twist his hips, or flick his tongue in such a way that left her mindless of even her own name, learning as if for the first time when it spilled forth from his lips.

**AU**

The boy he brought back to the wall had a mouth on him, pink and pretty and yet spouting insults as brash as a wildling, scaring the others to steer clear of his chambers so that a bastard could slip in unnoticed.

**Hurt/Comfort**

The way her ankle lay bent beneath her in the snow spoke volumes to contradict her angry disputes when he reached down to cradle her in his arms, but none so much as the way she lay her head against his chest while she cursed him.

**Friendship**

It felt as though he hadn't laughed since he was last teasing his little sister, and maybe he hadn't, but when her snowball hit him square in the face, the mirth bubbled up in him as freely as though it had never left.

**Romance**

Her hands were red and peeling from the cold, and though his were none better, when he wound his fingers through hers and brushed a chaste kiss across her knuckles, nothing had ever felt so soft as his chapped skin.

**Fluff**

When he was still she would study him, lips dusting over his eyelids and fingers threading through his hair, knowing that he was only feigning sleep and desperately grateful he let her hide her weakness in the dark.

* * *

_The one ship I have in this series that I can actually see come into fruition...for about the blink of an eye._


	5. shireenrickon

_Here I am, back again with this thing. Random-ness just keeps popping into my head!_

_One good thing about a series with a bazillion characters is that there are just as many ships of every shape and size to set your sights on.  
_

_Alliteration, anyone?  
_

_D: Not mine._

* * *

(r+s)

**Angst**

Even if the only memories he has of his eldest brother are fuzzy and warped from time , he still misses the man who had been king with a violence, wishes he were here to explain the strange feelings which overtook him each time the quiet girl was near, what they meant and just how he might make them go away.

**Smut**

It had been an accident the first time, a toss of her head in an attempt to move the shock of hair from her eyes which obscured her view at this new angle, but when her ruined skin brushed against the inside of his thigh and he gave such a low, deep groan of pleasure, the second and third time were most certainly on purpose.

**AU**

Mother swore it wasn't proper, fostering two boys from the North when they had their daughter to consider, but Father knew, everyone knew, the likelihood of any boy attempting something untoward with the likes of her was laughable...but then, when the youngest one kisses her hand there is something rather wild in his eyes that makes her think they might be wrong.

**Hurt/Comfort**

She tries to assure him that his sister's words don't hurt, that the lady was right in her wanting to secure a proper match for him, but he sees the tears she blinks back and lets out a dangerously feral growl before clutching her roughly to his chest and telling her to shut up.

**Friendship**

They are able to beat most of the blood and dirt from her skirts with stones from the ponds, and he knows just which herbs to chew and place over the scrapes on her palms to stop the bleeding, which don't hurt, not really, so she is sure that she will be able to make it up the tree after him without falling next time, surely.

**Romance**

He draws every eye as he strides through court, tall and fierce and focused on a point beyond the fluttering lashes and simpering looks he passes, for those pretty faces sour and pouting mouths drop open in shock when he takes her into his arms without a second thought to impropriety, blue eyes closing blissfully once her scarred cheek and thin lips are pressed against his own.

**Fluff**

The moments before they fall asleep are the most precious to her, for it is then and only then that he allows himself to be still and to lay his head against her shoulder, listening while she reads her books aloud with one hand threaded through his unruly hair while both of his are clasped firmly around his heart.

* * *

_I have no clue where anyone got the idea to stick these two together. Is there some hinting in the books that I have not come across yet? Or it is just a crazy fangirl dream (like my own OTP, Jon/Myrcella)?_


End file.
